


Personal Gain

by ashindk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashindk/pseuds/ashindk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After writing yet another article about Harry Potter in the Daily Prophet, Draco has to answer a lot of letters and a few important questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Gain

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Daily Profit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/969023) by [disapparater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disapparater/pseuds/disapparater). 



> Dear disapparater, thank you so much for letting me play with your creations. I really enjoyed reading all of your fics for this. The only problem was, they’re all brilliant, and improving on them would be next to impossible. So I picked the one that made me smile the most. Besides, I really enjoyed the challenge with the chronology in this one. I hope I got it right. Also a huge thank you to celestlyn for beta reading and to lyonessheart for keeping me on track and encouraging me. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> The following is inspired by disapparater’s work, [The Daily Profit](http://archiveofourown.org/works/969023), with the letters directly quoted from her piece. This is also based on fictional characters and a universe created by JK Rowling and owned by her and others, none of whom include me. No copyright infringement intended.

Draco leans back in his chair and reads over the scroll in his hands one more time.

Harry’s Handsome Hunk  
The wizarding world's favourite hero, Harry Potter, was last  
night spotted on a romantic date with a tall and dashing gentleman.  
The infamous bespectacled man, who came out only three months  
ago on the pages of this very newspaper, took his gorgeous chap  
to the very fancy, and every expensive, The Ledbury. It's likely that  
this wasn't the first date between the two, if the smiles and touches  
that were exchanged are anything to go by. When it came time to  
say goodnight, the Chosen One leant in for a lingering kiss on the  
cheek. Hopefully he'll go a little further next time, because surely he  
doesn't want to let this handsome hunk slip away. 

He glances at the clock. It’s been a long evening, and he should definitely get some sleep. He pens a short set of instructions at the bottom of the scroll and rolls it up tightly, casting an Impervious on it to keep it dry and clean. He smiles. The article will be a smashing success, he’s sure of it. Their morning sales will be up by at least 30 percent. Potter will probably be less than thrilled, though. But a cross Potter is a small price to pay if his plan works. He writes a short note to Pansy, letting her know that everything is set in motion.

\- - -

He’s almost finished the morning meeting when the owl swoops in. It drops a letter onto the table in front of him and takes off without waiting for a reply.

Subtle, Potter. Very, fucking subtle, he thinks to himself, and shifts his hand to cover the return address as the Prophet senior staff crane their necks and lean in to see what source is important enough to have their owl fly directly past the wards.

“Right.” He raps the envelope lightly against the table, “I think that’s it for now. Any questions?”

The answer is a murmur and the rustling of paper and parchment being gathered, but no one raises their voice.

“Good then. I’ll see you at two. Angie, we’ll need the preliminary sales stats for the morning edition.” 

He leaves for the relative privacy of his office, hearing his reporters and editors scramble up from their seats and finding their way back to their own spaces. 

“Good morning, Mr Malfoy,” says Marjorie in the front office, and he spares her a fleeting smile and a wave as he walks by.

He closes the office door firmly behind him and casts a locking charm on both the door and the Floo for good measure, before he opens the letter.  


> To the Editor  
>  The Daily Prophet  
>    
>  Dear Sir,  
>  I refer to your article on the front page of today's Daily Prophet. I would be grateful if you would refrain from publishing articles about my private life in your newspaper. The evening in question was a private event between myself and the gentleman you mentioned. I do not appreciate it being relayed to the entire wizarding world. This is not the first time I have had to complain about your unwanted press attention. A retraction, while I know unlikely, would be very much appreciated.
> 
> Yours,  
>  Harry Potter

He reads the letter, trying hard to calm the nervous, squirming sensation it sets off. It’s polite enough, he thinks, but so formal, almost standoff-ish in its wording. Should he Floo Pansy? It’s after nine. She’ll be in the office by now… Which means there’s a chance Granger will be there, as well. Perhaps it was a mistake to listen to Pansy. Or Granger. Whoever it was that came up with the plan. After all, it’s hard to tell these days. Since those two started working together, you never really know who exactly dreams up their plots and schemes. But, he thinks, it doesn’t really matter. They usually get exactly what they want one way or the other. 

He realises he’s gripping the letter hard enough that his fingers are hurting. He smoothes out the creases in the parchment and reads the message again. _‘This is not the first time I’ve had to complain about your unwanted press attention.’_ No, it’s not. He remembers the first time Potter stormed into his office, after he took over as editor. The screaming match had been almost like their Hogwarts days. And then they’d realised that they were not teenagers anymore and sat down to actually talk about things like adults. After that, there had been a few months of awkward but polite acquaintance and a few stilted conversations when Draco had covered events that Potter were involved in. And then Harry had approached him about writing a story about him coming out. 

He strokes his thumb over the signature. ‘Yours, Harry Potter’ He allows a small smile to break free. Surely, Harry can’t be that angry if he signs it that way? 

There’s a rap on the door and he looks up, startled, and cancels the Locking Charm.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to interrupt Mr Malfoy. Rita has been asking to see you. She wants to know why she wasn’t assigned to the Potter story.” 

He must have failed to keep the grimace off his face, because Marjorie smirks at him.

“Don’t worry, I told her you were in a very important meeting. But Ms Parkinson is in the Floo. She says it’s urgent.”

“Thank you. Please tell her I’ll Floo her back in a minute. I just need to reply to a letter.”

He finds a sheet of the thick, cream coloured stationary he reserves for special occasions, and picks up his quill. 

> Dear Mr Potter,  
>  On behalf of the Daily Prophet, I would like to apologise if our small article about your evening's date in this morning's paper has caused you undue distress. As a public figure and hero, you must understand the public's interest in your life—private as much as public. As a news publishing company we have an obligation to print the truth our readers want to hear about. You may dislike the attention, but it is an unavoidable part of the life of those in the spotlight. A part I can understand to varying degrees, as my name and position are well known.  
>  With regards to your request for a retraction, I would ask if anything in the offending article was in fact untrue?
> 
> Yours sincerely,  
>  Draco Malfoy  
>  Owner and Editor  
>  The Daily Prophet

He sends the owl off and squashes the impulse to call it back and rip the letter into cream coloured high quality confetti. It’s completely irrational, he tells himself. That letter is perfectly pleasant. 

A glance at the clock tells him that there will probably be tea and croissants at Pansy’s office, so instead of just calling, he makes sure his robes are falling nicely and steps into the fire. If his sudden need to visit his old friend is an excuse to avoid his least favourite employee for a bit longer, no one has to know.

\- - - 

There’s an owl waiting for him in his office when he gets back. It’s perched on the back of his chair, apparently taking a nap. Startling a sleeping owl is sure to lead to a vicious peck, so he decides to pry the letter from it without waking it.

There’s a sharp pain in his hand, a frantic flapping of wings and some very indignant hooting before the owl leaves his office. Fucking bird! He leaves the slightly creased envelope on his desk and goes in search of soap and hot water and hopefully a person who’s good with healing charms.

Unfortunately, most of his staff are actually good workers who are at their desks, diligently crafting articles for the afternoon paper, so the only person he sees on his way to the loo is Rita. She’s admiring her new (hopefully fake) pygmypuff lined cloak in front of the full length mirror outside the staff toilet, and Draco immediately remembers that he has some urgent questions for the Quidditch editor and ducks into his office.

“Hello, Draco,” Leopold booms. He’s a rotund man with a crooked nose, courtesy of a stray bludger back in his pro days. He’s also Draco’s old mentor from when he started writing for the paper, so hopefully he’ll help him without turning around and gossiping about it. 

“Please keep your voice down,” Draco hisses. “Rita’s outside.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Leo whispers. His moustache is quivering suspiciously, and Draco really can’t blame him for wanting to laugh. 

“Do you want me to heal that for you?” Leo gestures at his hand. He looks down and realises that he’s left a small trail of blood on the floor.

“Yes, please. That’d be very much appreciated. I’d have done it myself, but it’s my wand hand.”

He holds out his hand and Leo starts trailing his wand over the angry slashes.

“Why’re you hiding from Rita, then?” he prompts. 

“She wanted the Potter story.”

“Ah. Honestly, Draco, I hope I’m not overstepping, but I really don’t understand why you keep her on.”

“The marketing department tells me that her drivel sells lots of papers.” And her contract gives her a years salary and the rights to take all her contacts and old notes with her, in case her employment is terminated. He doesn’t mention that though. Leo’s his friend, but he’s also an employee, and it’s almost time to negotiate his contract. Draco’s not about to give him any ideas.

\- - -

Ten minutes later he’s back in his office and opening the envelope.

> Dear Mr Malfoy,  
>  You write what your readers want in order to sell more papers. Please don't think for a minute that I believe you take seriously your “obligation to print the truth.” You print what makes you the most money. I suppose as long as that coincides with the truth, you can keep a clear conscience. But I still don't understand why you insist on writing about me so often. My life is not that interesting, I know because I live it. If you have to print articles about me, could you make them progressively more boring until people don't want to read them any more?  
>  And yes, okay, your conscience is clear. It begrudges me to admit it, but every word of the last article is true.
> 
> Hopefully,  
>  Harry Potter

He reads the letter twice, the words of the last paragraph staying in his mind even after he puts the letter down. He tries to recall precisely what the article said. How did he end it? Oh yes; _“surely he doesn't want to let this handsome hunk slip away.”_

He Summons a cup of tea and thinks carefully before penning his reply.

> Potter,  
>  You know me well. Yes, as much as The Daily Prophet is a vessel for reaching the public with honest and newsworthy information, it is also my business. The aim of a business is to make money. I have no shame in admitting that. I will also admit that when your name is on the front page, sales increase by at least 28%. I can not purposefully make articles about you more dull. To be frank, they are already toned down. When we broke the news about your sexuality, we not only had your consent, but we were also considerate enough to leave out the details pertaining to your self-realisation. Today's article may have shocked you, but I'm sure our readers would have been more shocked by the details about what was being discussed over the smiles and touches, not to mention the wandering hand that went along with that kiss on the cheek.  
>  Nothing reported was untrue, or detailed enough for you to waste your time getting upset about. You knew exactly what to expect when you sat down at that table with your date.
> 
> Honestly,  
>  Draco Malfoy  
>  Owner and Editor  
>  The Daily ~~Prophet~~ Profit

He sends it off with the most docile owl he can find, and walks into his two o’clock meeting with a spring in his step.

\- - -

When he gets back to his office this time, there’s no owl waiting. He has to tamp down the embarrassing swoop of disappointment that’s threatening to make him pout like a little boy. Instead he settles in to read over the sales stats. As always when Harry’s on the front page, it looks very promising.

He’s startled from his thoughts when an owl swoops in and drops another letter in front of him. 

> Malfoy,  
>  Damn you and your general reasonableness.  
>  In all honesty, since you took over the paper (The Daily Profit, yes, well done) the articles published about me have been less intrusive, more general and less opinionated. I suppose I should be thankful for that, along with knowing the public will likely never be done with me.
> 
> Gratefully,  
>  Harry

  


> Harry,  
>  I am glad you at least feel more comfortable with the articles the paper prints about you since I took over. The interest the public has in you would continue, and likely only get more uncontrollable, if information about you was not available at all.  
>  But we don't want to write about you too much; can't have you developing an ego.ü>
> 
> Yours,  
>  Draco

  


> Draco,  
>  Any ego I developed would never match yours.  
>  So, with those issues cleared up, fancy another date with me tonight?
> 
> Yours,  
>  Harry

  


> Harry,  
>  Bocca Di Lupo, 7 pm.  
>  Can I bring my photographer?
> 
> Jokingly,  
>  Draco

The restaurant he’s chosen today is less pretentious, but no less delicious than the one they were at last night. His mouth waters at the smell of garlic and roast tomatoes that permeates the air as soon as he enters. There’s something about Italian food that makes him feel so happy and relaxed. Where French cuisine makes him sit up straight and remember his manners, Italian makes him feel like talking for hours over an extra glass of wine. He just hopes Harry feels the same way. He knows he likes to order in pizza, but despite the unassuming exterior, this isn’t exactly a pizzeria. He’s been researching Muggle restaurants quite thoroughly for the feature he writes in the Prophet and Bocca Di Lupo has won several prizes over the last few years.

He scans the room and... yes. Those broad shoulders enhanced by a nicely tailored suit, paired with that unruly mop of dark hair can only belong to one person. He admires the way Harry looks perfectly at home, swirling his glass of wine and making some remark that has the bartender smiling at him and refilling his glass. Harry can be utterly charming when he wants to be. And he has to admire the way he looks just as much at home here, as he does walking the Ministry corridors or taking a team of Aurors on a raid in some godforsaken windswept field.

Harry turns around and catches him looking, and his face lights up in that broad, boyish smile that makes him look particularly kissable. Draco tries to keep his own smile to an acceptable level, but judging by the way his cheeks are aching, he fails miserably. He’s probably grinning like a loon. Without even consciously making the decision, he starts walking towards the bar.

They’re seated at the back of the room like he requested when he made the reservations. Yesterday was for show -at least partly- but he wants Harry to know that today is just for the two of them, despite his last letter. 

The food is as delicious as he’d imagined. They’re almost through the braised ox cheek with chocolate and spices, when Harry puts down his cutlery and clears his throat. 

“So. You decided you were done waiting for me to make up my mind.”

His voice is pleasant enough, but there’s a hint of hurt in his eyes. Draco can feel his mouthful of wine go down wrong. It burns its way down his throat along with the acidic taste of fear and he has to spend a few seconds coughing into his napkin and sipping water. Fuck! He should have expected Harry to cut right to the point like the Gryffindor he used to be. 

“I - yes. Look. I’m sick of Muggle restaurants, no matter how exquisite. And my mother is asking all sorts of invasive questions. Besides, it was Pansy’s idea.” 

He takes a sip of wine. Harry is looking slightly surprised, so he hurries to speak again before he’ll recover enough to cut in. With Harry, it’s usually best to say it all in one go.

“Her’s and Granger’s, actually. They were very convincing. Granger said you’d never get around to it on your own, because of something with a teaspoon. I didn’t really understand that part, to be honest. But they’re scary when they agree,” he finishes. 

God! That didn’t come out anywhere near as suave as he’d hoped it would. He chances a look at Harry and finds him trying and failing to hide a laugh behind his glass. 

“So this was a case of peer pressure? Not a carefully crafted plan to make me commit to a relationship, but the result of you being bullied by Hermione?” 

“No! Yes? Fuck if I know.” He realises he’s twisting the corner of his napkin and abruptly lets go of the fabric. “We can still keep it under wraps, though, if you’d rather. I never revealed anything about my own identity, you know.”

Harry just looks at him, and he realises he’s basically been babbling. Damn. This was suppose to be a subtle and elegant way to test if Harry was ready to move their relationship forward, and he’s doing a piss poor job of it. But then again, what should he expect, listening to Pansy. His best friend is many things, but subtle is not one of them.

“Do you really think I don’t want people to know that I’m seeing you?” Harry says. The question sounds mostly exasperated, but there’s something else in his voice. Something that makes him feel small and vulnerable. Hurt? Anger? 

“There’s nothing I want more. But do you even realise what it’s going to be like for you? People will not like it. And they won’t be shy about saying so.”

“I’m used to that. They’ve been saying some rather rude things about me for the last ten years. Most of them are true, or they used to be.” He smirks. “Besides, I control what they write in the paper. Just this evening, they’re running a lovely piece about how nice it is to see you settling down. Granger’s giving some very encouraging quotes. And no matter what they think of me, I doubt many people will dare disagree with her.” 

Harry laughs. It’s a beautiful sight, the way his eyes crinkle slightly and he throws his head back enough to reveal a stretch of bare throat.

“I was going to order the gelato,” Harry says. “But now I think about it, I’d rather we stop by Fortescue’s. We could take a few tubs back to mine and I’ll make coffee.”

“Are you asking me to come home with you?” he asks. It’s a stupid question, really, but he needs to be sure. 

Harry shrugs and waves the waiter over. 

“Do you want to?” 

“Of course I do.” He smiles and covers Harry’s hand with his. “Just give me a moment to arrange for a photographer.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Comment here or at [LiveJournal](http://hd-remix.livejournal.com/80481.html). Comments are ♥.


End file.
